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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973544">why are ya single??</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxkillskat/pseuds/foxkillskat'>foxkillskat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Mild Language, No Sex, Post-Time Skip, SakuAtsu, and the author pokes fun at himself relentlessly, mentions of drinking / getting sick, nothing graphic, omi and atsumu cook up somethin HOT in the kitchen, sakuatsu best friends agenda</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:00:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,477</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28973544</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxkillskat/pseuds/foxkillskat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sakusa Kiyoomi is hot.</p><p>As his self-proclaimed best friend, Miya Atsumu is allowed to say that, allowed to be a pain in the ass every day of the week without consequence.</p><p>Until he goes and ruins it all by asking Kiyoomi why he’s single.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>583</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Team MSBY Black Jackal Haikyuu</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>why are ya single??</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey yall, foxkillskat here to push the sakuatsu best friends to lovers agenda 👀 </p><p>speakin from experience, a friendship is a kind of romance, and a best friendship??  dont even get me started</p><p>enjoy this cheesy ass mess!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Sakusa Kiyoomi is hot. </p><p> </p><p>Miya Atsumu’s allowed to say that.  They are, after all, friends.  Good friends.  Best friends, even though Kiyoomi would never admit it.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu doesn’t need him to — he knows it.  They crossed that line the night Kiyoomi drove half an hour in his sleep clothes to pick Atsumu up from the seedy part of the city after he’d gone on his last bender.  Only a best friend would let him in their car that drunk, knowing how he holds —or doesn’t hold— his liquor.  Months later and he still owes one more favor until he’s free of his debt.  Kiyoomi insisted it was fine, but best friends are supposed to keep things balanced — Atsumu knows that.  They’re supposed to complement each other and compliment each other.</p><p> </p><p>So, as Kiyoomi’s self-proclaimed best friend, Atsumu means it when he says Kiyoomi is hot.  Extremely hot.  Can’t touch without burning a hand hot.  Atsumu would know — he’s seen Kiyoomi stripped down to his underwear more times than he can count.  Naked, too, though he tries not to dwell on that, or he might let himself get a little unbalanced.  As a connoisseur of both attractive men and women, he knows what he’s doing, that’s for sure.</p><p> </p><p>What’s not sure, what Atsumu can’t understand, can’t hypothesize, is why Kiyoomi is single.  So what if he’s particular about cleaning and touching and personal space?  None of it is hard to adjust to, really; certainly not an obstacle big enough to keep Atsumu away.  As a friend, of course.</p><p> </p><p>“Omi-kun?”  He rolls over on Kiyoomi’s couch to get a good look at him as he stretches on his yoga mat, eyes glued to the game playing out on TV like it’s the most interesting thing he’s seen all year.  It’s not even volleyball.</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm?”  Legs split, Kiyoomi arches his back and grabs his foot behind him, pulling it high in the air with both arms.  Only he could make a position like this look easy, his paced movements coinciding with tempered breaths, and his shorts settling deep into the creases of his muscular legs.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking hell. </p><p> </p><p>“Yer really hot,” Atsumu announces without a second thought.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi coughs and breaks his form, ankle falling to the mat with a satisfying smack.  “What the fuck, Atsumu.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?  It’s a compliment!”  Atsumu throws his hands in the air and stops staring at Kiyoomi’s ass.  “Ya don’t gotta be so prickly ‘bout it.”</p><p> </p><p>Slowly, Kiyoomi aims the remote at the TV.  The screen goes dark, same as his face when he swivels around and pulls his knees to his chest.  “What do you want?” </p><p> </p><p>“Geez, what kinda person do ya think I am?” Atsumu cries out.  “Can’t I compliment my best friend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me that.”  Kiyoomi squints, suspicious.  “You’re up to something.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu stretches out with a heavy exhale.  “I’m just curious why ya aren’t with anyone, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>If Kiyoomi narrows his eyes any more, they’ll shut.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought maybe ya were into the whole casual thing,” Atsumu continues, “but I’m pretty sure no one else ever comes over here ‘cept me, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi raises a brow.  “What makes you say that?”</p><p> </p><p>“I snoop in yer stuff when yer not lookin’, and I’ve never seen anyone else’s things here besides mine.” </p><p> </p><p>No other toothbrushes in the cup, no unknown shoes on the rack, no hair pins in drawers nor earrings fallen to the floor.  Hell, Atsumu has never even found a stray hair stuck to the shower wall which wasn’t short and blonde or black and curly.</p><p> </p><p>“You what?”  Kiyoomi scowls.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just lookin’ out fer ya, that’s all.”  Atsumu supplies his most winning grin.  “That’s what best friends are fer.”</p><p> </p><p>“We are not best friends,” Kiyoomi snaps.  “I can’t believe you went through my things.  That’s so—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m not judgin’ ya fer all that shit in yer nightstand.”  Atsumu smirks and Kiyoomi’s face goes bright red like it always does when he’s about to lose it.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Atsumu starts before he has a chance, “if yer not fuckin’ around and yer not datin’ anyone, my question is why?”</p><p> </p><p>Just like that, Kiyoomi’s mouth slams shut and he buries his face in his knees, done.  “Has it ever occurred to you I’m simply not interested?”</p><p> </p><p>“In what?  Datin' or sex?” Atsumu calls him out.  “’Cause I know either one is a bullshit lie based on yer readin’ habits.”</p><p> </p><p>“Just because I own a romance novel or two—”</p><p> </p><p>“Eight,” Atsumu corrects.  He would know — he once spent the half an hour Kiyoomi takes to shower leafing through every single one, trying to grasp the appeal.  He still doesn’t get it.  None of the moves would ever work in real life and the lines are so ridiculously cheesy, they’d kill the mood for sure.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi’s head snaps up to fix him with a heavy glare.  “Stay out of my drawers from now on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe if ya answer my question.”  Atsumu grins evilly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to kill you.”  Kiyoomi jumps up.  “I’m literally going to kill you.”</p><p> </p><p>He pauses, glowering down at Atsumu and wringing out his hands like he’s having second thoughts about dirtying them.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like to see ya try.”  Atsumu wags his brows and reaches out to poke Kiyoomi in the side, the most touch he can usually get away with.</p><p> </p><p>Not this time. </p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi pins his wrist to the arm of the couch, fingers digging in deep and warm.  The last thing Atsumu expects to be thinking is how they’re mere centimeters from holding hands, how this might even be a nice moment if Kiyoomi wasn’t ruining it with his uptight glare.  All these thoughts leave Atsumu a little unbalanced.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Kiyoomi growls, bringing him back.</p><p> </p><p>“Dang, Omi-Omi, yer all worked up, aren’t ya?” Atsumu continues his teasing, unafraid.  “All ya have to do is answer a simple question.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi’s grip tightens.</p><p> </p><p>“Ow.  That kinda hurts.”  Atsumu wiggles his fingers, losing feeling.  “I just wanna know why ya don’t have a girlfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi blinks a slow blink and releases him.  “I’m gay, you idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>“What—” Atsumu sits up and rubs the shaved part at the back of his neck.  “But you had all those books and—”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi falls onto the couch beside him, head thrown back toward the ceiling.  “Am I not allowed to enjoy a romance novel?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, sure, but a straight one?  Eight straight ones?  That’s—” Atsumu lets out a tiny laugh.  Then a medium one.  Then one which grows bigger and bigger until his abs start to hurt.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop laughing at me, you piece of shit.”  Kiyoomi punches him in the ribs, hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Geez, ow!  Stop hurtin’ me.”  Atsumu holds his side.  “This is yer fault fer not fuckin’ tellin’ me!  Do you even know how many guys I coulda set ya up with?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want your sloppy seconds.”  Kiyoomi wrinkles his nose in distaste.  “And why would I tell you?  It’s none of your business.”</p><p> </p><p>“Best friends are supposed to tell each other that shit!  I tell you.”  Atsumu pouts, and Kiyoomi looks more and more like he’s going to be sick.  “I guess I shoulda figured it out, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”  Confusion replaces disgust on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“I caught ya starin’ at Shouyou-kun’s ass more than once, but everyone does so I didn’t think too much of it.”  Atsumu taps his chin.  “Wait — are you into him?”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi side-eyes him.  “Don’t project your weird fantasies onto me.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hey now!” Atsumu protests.  “I’m just sayin, if he wasn’t taken—”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need to know.  I really don’t.”  Kiyoomi up and leaves him for the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>“You still didn’t answer my question,” Atsumu calls after him.  Kiyoomi might be done, but he’s only getting started.</p><p> </p><p>“I am not even remotely interested in Hinata.”  Kiyoomi throws over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“No, the other one.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi turns around and crosses his arms.  “Have you ever thought maybe I like my life the way it is?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.” Atsumu chuckles.  “Nobody who likes their life reads that many romance novels in a month.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I do,” Kiyoomi argues.  “I enjoy my reading and my privacy, and if I ever feel the need to have it invaded and made a mess of by someone, I have you.  I don’t have time to clean up after anyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>“But—”</p><p> </p><p>“No buts,” Kiyoomi cuts him off and continues into the kitchen where he rifles through cabinets, clanging pots and pans together far louder than necessary.</p><p> </p><p>From the couch, Atsumu watches him work.  Scrutinizes those snappy, precise movements.  Eyes how he squats down to the bottom cabinet to retrieve a cutting board, shorts riding up thighs to cling in all the right places.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking hell.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu shakes his head.  Knowing what he knows now makes it a little more difficult to stare at Kiyoomi’s ass.  It’s all fun and games to admire what he can’t have, but—</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu shakes his head again.  That hasn’t changed — he still can’t have it.  Not unless he wants to lose his best friend.  Right now, Atsumu is a little too unbalanced.</p><p> </p><p>Without another thought, he pads into the kitchen and takes up residence on one of the bar stools.  “Omi-kun?”</p><p> </p><p>“What?”  Kiyoomi doesn’t look up, intent on violently chopping an onion into teeny tiny pieces.</p><p> </p><p>“As yer best friend, I’m tellin’ ya right now you should get some ass.”  For both their sakes.</p><p> </p><p>With an agonized groan, Kiyoomi brings the knife down so hard it sticks upright in the board.  “Will you shut up?”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu holds in his amusement.  “I’m just sayin’, I think it would help ya de-stress a little.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi yanks the knife free and turns around, eyes flaming.  “Do I look stressed to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you seen yerself?”  Atsumu lets loose, laughing while he imitates the way Kiyoomi’s holding the knife up like he’s ready to stab him.  “Ya look a little more than stressed.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi closes his eyes and lowers his knife-wielding hand.  “You do understand that if I started seeing someone, we” —he gestures to Atsumu and himself— “would not be doing this.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu frowns.  “Why’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>“Since you apparently don’t know, when you date someone you end up spending a lot of time with them.”  Kiyoomi resumes his chopping.  “Between practice and games and all the other shit on my plate, my free time is limited as it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh.”  Atsumu leans back against the counter, chewing on this. </p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi is right — that’s a big part of why they started hanging out together in the first place.  Bokuto and Hinata were rarely free, and when they were it always turned into a third- or fifth-wheel situation where Atsumu was the odd one out.  If Kiyoomi started dating someone, Atsumu would become the seventh-wheel, which is arguably worse.  Not only would his social life dwindle, he could lose his best friend status. </p><p> </p><p>After all, best friends are supposed to spend time with each other.  Lots of time.  Maybe even all their free time, like they’ve been doing for months on end.  Atsumu doesn’t want to give that up.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what?”  Kiyoomi rummages through the fridge.  “Maybe it would be good for me.  At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you being a pain in my ass every day of the week.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu sticks his bottom lip out at Kiyoomi’s ass.  “You don’t mean that.</p><p> </p><p>“I do.”  Kiyoomi unscrews the lid of a jar and carefully measures out a spoonful of dark sludge before depositing it in a big pot.  “And whomever I date certainly won’t go through my things when I’m not looking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now yer the one who doesn’t know how relationships work.”  Atsumu sticks his tongue out at the pinched look Kiyoomi gives him.  “I’ve gone through the drawers of every single person I’ve been with.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi’s face scrunches up.  “First of all, that’s an invasion of privacy and you need to stop.  And, secondly, a hook-up is not the same as a relationship.”</p><p> </p><p>“They could go through my drawers and I wouldn’t care.  I got nothin’ to hide.”  Atsumu crosses his arms.  “Unlike you and yer smut books.”</p><p> </p><p>“Leave.”  Kiyoomi stirs the pot.  “Get out of my house.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t mean that.”  Atsumu slides off the stool and waltzes over to peer into the pot.  “Whatchya cookin’?”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing for you.”  Kiyoomi pushes Atsumu out of the way with his hip and starts scraping the onions into the pot.  “You’re leaving.”</p><p> </p><p>“Aw, come on Omi-kun.”  Atsumu hip bumps him right back with more force than intended.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey—” Kiyoomi yelps, but it’s too late — a handful of the onions escape to the floor. </p><p> </p><p>“Oops.”  Atsumu crouches down the same time as him, knees colliding and knocking Kiyoomi on his ass.</p><p> </p><p>“What the fuck, Atsumu.”  Kiyoomi brushes his hands on his shorts, glaring.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu forgets all about the onions scattered around, too busy snorting at Kiyoomi’s prissy face.  “You really gotta work on yer balance, Omi-kun, fallin’ like that so easy.”</p><p> </p><p>“My balance is perfectly fine, thank you,” Kiyoomi barks.  “My tailbone, on the other hand, is not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ya did say I was a pain in yer ass.”  Atsumu smirks as he holds out a hand.</p><p> </p><p>The last thing he expects is for Kiyoomi to take it, fingers wrapping around his, tight and warm.  And when Atsumu goes to pull him up, the last thing he expects is to be yanked forward himself, to end up with one hand on the floor and one in Kiyoomi’s, face to face and hips to hips. </p><p> </p><p>Up close like this, Kiyoomi’s glare is hot.  Extremely hot.  Can’t make eye contact without burning into the back of his skull hot.  Atsumu would know — he feels it etching Kiyoomi’s name into his flesh and bone.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu chuckles nervously and tries to look anywhere but those eyes.  “Omi-kun?”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi doesn’t move, doesn’t let go of Atsumu’s hand, doesn’t say a single word.  And, even though he’s silent, Atsumu can’t help but settle his stare on those lips, parted, pink.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking hell.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu is going to lose it.  What is ‘it’, exactly?  His best friend, his mind, every ounce of his self-control.  Any of the above.  All of the above.  That’s all he can think as he leans in closer and closer—</p><p> </p><p>An acrid smell hits his nose full force and smacks some sense into him, stops him short.</p><p> </p><p>“Somethin’s burnin’,” he proclaims, turning his head toward the stovetop.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck.”  Kiyoomi slides his hand free and wriggles beneath Atsumu’s weight.  “Get off me, you oaf.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yer the one that pulled me over,” Atsumu mumbles as he hauls himself up by the counter.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi doesn’t wait for a hand this time.  He’s already up, removing the pot from the burner and waving the smoke away.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ruined.”  He pauses to grimace at his dirtied floor-hands before heading to the sink.</p><p> </p><p>Ruined.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu peers into the blackened mess and swallows.  Whatever was in the pot, the onions scattered across the floor, his friendship with Kiyoomi: the whole lot is ruined.  He crossed that line the moment he chose to lean in instead of pulling away. </p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>Even before that. </p><p> </p><p>The line was far gone, erased by the time he was spending every spare moment staring at Kiyoomi’s ass.  The line was ignored, disregarded when he made the conscious decision to snoop through Kiyoomi’s drawers and felt a stupidly sharp pang of something upon finding those damn books.  The line was driven over, squashed beneath the wheels of Kiyoomi’s sleek, shiny car when he rolled up at two in the morning wearing soft sleep clothes and a crown of wild curls.  If Atsumu hadn’t been so far gone that night, he probably would have ruined it all right then instead of ruining the leather.</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking hell,” Kiyoomi speaks Atsumu’s thoughts for him as he pats his hands dry.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Atsumu blurts out, gaze traveling back and forth between Kiyoomi and the floor and the pot, but mostly Kiyoomi. </p><p> </p><p>Everything is unbalanced.  Everything is falling apart.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s fine.”  Kiyoomi sighs.  “Don’t apologize.”</p><p> </p><p>He said those exact same words that night in his car.</p><p> </p><p>“No, it’s not,” Atsumu repeats himself, too.  Unlike last time, he has nothing to offer, no penance to insist upon.  No amount of favors can make up for this. </p><p> </p><p>“I ruined it all.”  Atsumu drops back to the floor and starts frantically gathering the onions.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?”  Kiyoomi squints.  “I mean, that” —he nods to Atsumu’s handful— “was your fault, but I’m the one who let it burn.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not talkin’ ‘bout the fuckin’ onions, Sakusa,” Atsumu grumbles as he marches them to the bin and dumps them in.</p><p> </p><p>“Sakusa?”  Kiyoomi’s lips part.  “Since when do you call me that?”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu sticks his hands in the sink and blasts the water, scrubbing furiously to distract himself from that burning stare.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi isn’t having it; he shoves his face in Atsumu’s, blocking his view.  “It’s rude to ignore your best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t call me that,” Atsumu snaps, but Kiyoomi doesn’t shrink back.</p><p> </p><p>“Too late.”  He crosses his arms and sticks his bottom lip out in a rare pout.  “You’re my best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu can’t even enjoy it.  He turns off the tap and hides his shaky hands in the drying towel. </p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m not,” he admits his defeat.</p><p> </p><p>“And why is that?” Kiyoomi demands.</p><p> </p><p>“A best friend isn’t supposed to want to kiss their best friend!” Atsumu yells, face hot.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi freezes.  But then his lips twitch into a smirk, growing larger and larger until his teeth are showing and he gives a little ‘heh.’</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut.  “I’d really appreciate it if ya didn’t laugh at me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Atsumu.”  Kiyoomi’s voice is right in his ear, jolting him. </p><p> </p><p>The towel falls to the floor and Atsumu’s hands find the edge of the counter in its absence.  “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“To answer your question,” Kiyoomi continues, paced and tempered, “I’m single because I want to kiss my best friend.”</p><p> </p><p>“You—” Atsumu snaps his eyes open, right in Kiyoomi’s.  “On the floor” —he struggles for words— “you were makin’ a move, weren’t ya?”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, it worked in the novel.”  Kiyoomi huffs a laugh so close it ghosts Atsumu’s lips.  “Though the love interest wasn’t quite as dense as you, apparently.”</p><p> </p><p>“Fuckin’ hell.”  Atsumu breaks into a smile.</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi returns it, warm and fond.  “Didn’t you say you still owed me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”  Atsumu struggles to think of anything besides that smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Do me a favor and kiss me,” Kiyoomi requests, eyes burning.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu’s sure these words are familiar, recognizes them from somewhere.  And when it hits him, he can’t help it — he laughs.  “Is that a cheesy line from one of yer books?”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi’s face goes bright red like it always does when he’s about to lose it.</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu leans in before he has a chance.  Face to face and hips to hips, he loses his self-control in the ridiculous softness of Kiyoomi’s lips.  And when his hands settle into the creases where those muscular legs begin, he loses his mind in the perfect curve of Kiyoomi’s ass, unable to hold on right no matter how he clings to it.  Not that this stops him from trying.</p><p> </p><p>And when Kiyoomi gasps into his mouth, arches his back right into Atsumu’s hands and whines like no other, Atsumu has to wonder if he’s lost his best friend, too. </p><p> </p><p>Desperate to know, he breaks, leaving Kiyoomi to continue on alone, trailing kisses along Atsumu’s jawline all the way to his neck. </p><p> </p><p>“Are we still best friends?” Atsumu asks, heavy breaths filling the spaces between each and every word.</p><p> </p><p>The tip of Kiyoomi’s nose finds Atsumu’s ear, sliding up its edge and shooting sparks up his spine.</p><p> </p><p>“And more,” Kiyoomi whispers so only he can hear.</p><p> </p><p>Fucking hell.</p><p> </p><p>The sound of his voice, sweet and breathless in Atsumu’s ear is enough to tip the scales.  Too much.  Too far.  Entirely unbalanced, Atsumu digs his fingers deep in Kiyoomi’s flesh, desperate to hold on.  Without hesitation, Kiyoomi returns the favor and brings him back level, holding him tight.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know if I’ve told ya this lately,” Atsumu whispers with rediscovered words, “but yer really hot.”</p><p> </p><p>“You might have mentioned it.”  Kiyoomi presses a kiss to Atsumu’s ear.  “What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“You.”  Atsumu huffs a desperate laugh into those curls.  “I want you — all of you.”</p><p> </p><p>Kiyoomi pulls back to give him a shit-eating grin.  “Now that sounds like a cheesy line from a romance novel.”</p><p> </p><p>Atsumu pouts, but Kiyoomi’s smile grows warm and fond. </p><p> </p><p>“I like cheesy romance novels, you idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think I do, too,” Atsumu confesses, leaning in.  “Especially when the love interest is you.”</p><p> </p><p>That smile fills him when their lips meet and, as Kiyoomi’s confirmed best friend, Atsumu knows the only thing ruined here is his taste in books.  That’s for sure.</p><p> </p>
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